I grew up spending every Friday with my grandparents. Their house was my favorite place, and they greeted me with the same routine of games, dinner, and watching Family Feud re-runs. My grandparents hadn’t changed their house since 1975, and dark wood panels, decorative owls, and art deco pineapples were littered throughout the living room. The small farmhouse was right next to chicken houses and had no insulation, but that didn’t stop me from spending every summer – sweltering and overheated – with my grandparents. My grandma frequently filled plastic pans with iced water where we would soak our feet as a feeble attempt “not to feel so damn hot!”. Her humor and joy were my favorite things about her, and I always wanted to be as quick-witted as my grandma.
I never realized how “dated” their house was until I was 18, when we had to clean out all those dated decorations. My grandmother had progressive Alzheimer’s and had moved in with us the summer after I graduated high school. Her husband had also moved in, as he had COPD and was slowly showing signs of dementia. Every item we packed I recognized as a source of a wonderful memory, but now every part of the house seemed so old and so far away. My own grandparents – or the people I knew – seemed far away, too.
But, every so often, my grandma would remember our summer traditions, and would even say “we should go get ice cream sometime soon”. Those piecemeal memories would take me back to when I was ten, running in their yard, and waiting for my papa to take us to Dairy Queen for a chocolate sundae….our second-favorite way to combat the North Georgia heat…
I grew up spending every Friday with my grandparents. Their house was my favorite place, and they greeted me with the same routine of games, dinner, and watching Family Feud re-runs. My grandparents hadn’t changed their house since 1975, and dark wood panels, decorative owls, and art deco pineapples were littered throughout the living room. The small farmhouse was right next to chicken houses and had no insulation, but that didn’t stop me from spending every summer – sweltering and overheated – with my grandparents. My grandma frequently filled plastic pans with iced water where we would soak our feet as a feeble attempt “not to feel so damn hot!”. Her humor and joy were my favorite things about her, and I always wanted to be as quick-witted as my grandma.
I never realized how “dated” their house was until I was 18, when we had to clean out all those dated decorations. My grandmother had progressive Alzheimer’s and had moved in with us the summer after I graduated high school. Her husband had also moved in, as he had COPD and was slowly showing signs of dementia. Every item we packed I recognized as a source of a wonderful memory, but now every part of the house seemed so old and so far away. My own grandparents – or the people I knew – seemed far away, too.
But, every so often, my grandma would remember our summer traditions, and would even say “we should go get ice cream sometime soon”. Those piecemeal memories would take me back to when I was ten, running in their yard, and waiting for my papa to take us to Dairy Queen for a chocolate sundae….our second-favorite way to combat the North Georgia heat…